


Stand By Me

by dracoqueen22



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24295123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: When Rodimus needs him, Drift is there, even if all he needs is someone to stand guard while he’s vulnerable.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock & Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Comments: 24
Kudos: 104





	Stand By Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [withersake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/withersake/gifts).



“Hey, Drift. I hope you’re not too busy, because um, Starburst?”  
  
Drift’s optics snap online as he fully surfaces from his meditation. He’s on his feet, hand pressed to his comm, before he’s fully registered the words. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I’m going into heat,” Rodimus says, and there’s a wry, resigned humor to it. “Bad timing, I know, but it’s not like I chose it.” He pauses, and there’s a quiet discomfort in the pause. “I need you.”  
  
"I'm already on my way, Roddy.” A small knot of worry sets around Drift’s spark. He's well aware of Rodimus' aversions to his heat. "Just don't leave your quarters, and--"  
  
"Tell Magnus and Ratchet, I know. Already did."  
  
"How loudly did Ratchet curse?"  
  
Rodimus chuckles across the comm. "I learned a few new phrases," he says. "See you soon, Drift."  
  
Drift cycles a long ventilation and hurries through the hallway on high alert. No one seems to have noticed the signs of a mech in heat. Everything seems business as usual.  
  
If they caught it early enough, perhaps they’ll get through this with minimal disturbances.  
  
Drift can only hope.  
  
He makes it to Rodimus' habsuite in record time, keying himself through the security Rodimus has already enabled, currently set to limit access to Drift alone. There are plenty of others who'd be able to hack their way through, but Drift will make sure no one has the opportunity.  
  
Inside, Rodimus paces back and forth, and the heat exuding from his frame is already immense. He smells sweet and friendly, and his field is open and inviting. Drift has to pause as the weight of it swamps him, until their Amica bond kicks in, reducing his own desire to less than nothing.  
  
"Well, at least we know it works," Drift says as Rodimus looks at him with no small amount of trepidation.  
  
His shoulders sink with relief. "Thanks for coming."  
  
"What are Amica for?" Drift grins and opens his arms, Rodimus coming into them for an embrace, his frame trembling and heated, his field spilling his anxiety. "Do you have enough supplies?"  
  
"I'm Captain. I have my own energon dispenser and a private washrack. I'm set," Rodimus says into his shoulder, the words muffled.  
  
Drift rubs his back, between his spoiler, and touches a few points of energy nexus, activating them to send a wave of relaxation through Rodimus' frame. "There's no one you want me let through?"  
  
"Nope." Rodimus pulls back and gives Drift a big grin, cupping his cheeks with a light pat. "Not on this ship at least. I don't trust my cap is up to the task and well... you know."  
  
Yeah. Drift knows.  
  
He nods and rests a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Then I'll be outside if you need me. Comm me anytime."  
  
 _click_.  
  
Rodimus' face reddens. Drift doesn't have to look to know his valve panel has popped, and is no doubt slicking his thighs with lubricant.  
  
Drift politely pretends not to notice. "Do you have enough toys?"  
  
"Shut up!" Rodimus brightens even further, his spoiler twitching. He takes Drift by the shoulders and steers him to the door. "Go. Be my guard."  
  
He lets himself be steered. "No one will get through me, Roddy. I promise."  
  
"I know." Rodimus gives him a faint smile with a little hitched movement as though he wants to hug Drift again but thinks better of it. "See you in a twenty-four hours."  
  
"Aye, Captain." Drift salutes Rodimus, and Rodimus rolls his optics.  
  
The door shuts. Locks. The panel turns a baleful crimson. No access allowed.  
  
Drift turns his back to the door, faces the hallway, and rests a casual hand on the hilt of his right blade.  
  
No one's getting through this door.  
  


~

  
  
"Has anyone showed up yet?" Rodimus asks, three hours into Drift's post.  
  
"Nope." Drift casts a keen gaze down either end of the hall, but it's deserted. Either no one knows, or Ultra Magnus put some measures into place. Or they do know, peeked and saw Drift, and decided they'd be better off elsewhere.  
  
"You're safe," Drift says.  
  
Rodimus vents relief, though his voice sounds a little strained. The comm doesn't pick up background noise, otherwise Drift is sure he'd hear the steady drone of a vibrator or two. Rodimus does love his toys.  
  
"You're the best," Rodimus says. "Thanks, Drift."  
  
"Anytime, Roddy."  
  


~

  
  
Ten hours later, Drift has already glared down one curious mech who passed by the corridor and wondered what Drift was doing.  
  
"None of your business," he says. "Move along." It helps that he's third in command. He does hold some weight around here.  
  
Jackpot squints at him but does move along.  
  
"You know what the worst part of this is?" Rodimus asks. He's kept up a steady drone of inane conversation, no doubt seeking a distraction. Drift has actually been grateful for it. Otherwise, this post would be quite boring.  
  
"The fact that you're stuck in your room and will be missing a prime opportunity for some meteor surfing tonight?" Drift asks.  
  
Rodimus groans. "Oh, you're right. I am missing that. Damn it." He pauses and says, "No, not that. But thanks for putting it in my mind."  
  
"What then?"  
  
"If I had someone I wanted to be with, and times were different, this might actually be fun," Rodimus says.  
  
Drift chuckles. "That's because you're a hedonist."  
  
"Mm. Guilty." Rodimus' vents hitch, and he falls into silence for a long moment before he adds, "Primus, I hope I don't run out of lube."  
  
Drift's bark of laughter sends a curious Tailgate skittering out of view.  
  


~

  
  
Fourteen hours later, Drift hears a noise at the far end of the corridor to his left. He immediately focuses in that direction, hand going to his sword.  
  
Ammo stands there, his visor glowing brighter than usual. “I thought I... smelled something,” he says as he comes closer. He teeters as though he’s struggling to keep his balance.  
  
“This corridor is off-limits right now. Keep moving,” Drift says.  
  
Ammo, however, staggers closer. He touches his head, giving it a shake. “It’s really delicious, sir,” he says. “Is there... is there someone here?”  
  
Drift intercepts Ammo, one hand on his shoulder, squeezing down on a motion relay in warning. “There’s nothing here you need.” He spins Ammo around, shoves him back toward the intersecting hallway. “Don’t make me call security.”  
  
“But--”  
  
“Go!” Drift gives him a harder shove, sends Ammo sprawling out of the corridor. He stands over the mech, and unsheathes one sword enough to show off the blade.  
  
Ammo looks up at him, his visor flickering as though in a reset. “I... yes, sir!” He scrambles to his feet and takes off, back toward the main halls.  
  
“Drift?” Rodimus’ voice crackles in his comm, exhausted and worried.  
  
“You all right there, hot stuff?” Drift asks as he glares Ammo out of view before sending a quick message to Ratchet. Might need to collect Ammo and lock him down until the pheromones are out of his system.  
  
It takes Rodimus a second to respond.  
  
“Just checking,” he says.  
  
Drift’s spark aches for him. “I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
He returns to his post, far more vigilant now. They’re only through half of it, and the worst is yet to come.  
  
“I know,” Rodimus says, and he goes quiet again.  
  
Drift watches.  
  


~

  
  
Nineteen hours later, Drift paces to keep his fluids pumping and to extend his vigilant patrol. Rodimus must be exuding a fair number of pheromones, because the curious mechs have increased in number, most of them dissuaded by Drift, but a few trying to push their luck.  
  
He doesn't kill anyone, but Ratchet is going to be quite busy for a while.  
  
"I hate this so much," Rodimus says, his voice raw and aching and exhausted. "Who decided this was something we needed to go through? Why is this necessary?"  
  
"I don't know," Drift murmurs. "I ask myself that same question about a lot of things."  
  
Rodimus chuckles, but it's dry and without humor. "Yeah. Good point. Me, too. There are a lot of things that were... unnecessary."  
  
Drift paces back in front of Rodimus' door and down to the other end of the corridor, peering up and down the intersecting hallway before he pivots and starts the pattern over again. "Can't change it, can only adapt to it."  
  
"I know." Pain and exhaustion leak into his voice. "Thanks, Drift. If you hadn't been here, I don't know what I would have had to put up with."  
  
"I've had to knock Atomizer out twice to give you a clue," Drift says. He's trying to make a joke, keep it light, but he thinks it falls flat.  
  
"You're the best. Love you, buddy," Rodimus says. "And I think I'm almost done. The need isn't so heavy anymore."  
  
Drift manages a smile, though Rodimus can't see it. "You're almost there then. Just a bit longer, Hot Rod."  
  
"Love it when you call me that," Rodimus sighs. "See you soon."  
  


~

  
  
Twenty-four hours later, the door clicks open, Drift sheathes his blades, and steps into Rodimus' hab-suite, closing it behind him. He shutters his vents to the lingering smell of a heat: interfacing, ozone, and lubrication. The pheromones might not affect him, but Drift is still a normal mech. Those scents would be arousing even without a heat.  
  
Rodimus isn't in sight, but Drift can hear the washrack sputtering away.  
  
There's no sign of the day Rodimus spent in his berth: the bedding has been changed, the toys stowed, and spills mopped up.  
  
The washrack door opens, Rodimus emerging in a puff of steam. He looks wrung dry and exhausted, but he offers Drift a smile and spreads his arms. "All done."  
  
"That's one more survived," Drift says. "Now you just need some actual recharge."  
  
"Yeah." Rodimus flops down on the bed. "Join me? You stood guard all night, you need recharge, too."  
  
Drift removes his swords -- all three of them -- and lays them aside before he joins Rodimus in the berth, unsurprised when his best friend curls into his frame, wrapping around him like an octopus. Rodimus has always been one for cuddles.  
  
"Thank you," Rodimus says into the crook of his neck, his vents warm and teasing on Drift's intake.  
  
"You don't have to keep saying it," Drift says.  
  
"Yeah, I do. I don't say it enough." Rodimus hums, his field stroking Drift's with affection. "You're always there for me, Drift. You're the best."  
  
Drift rests his chin on top of Rodimus' head. "You don't have to say it, but you're welcome anyway."  
  
"Good." Rodimus snuggles closer, as if he's trying to meld their frames together. "Night, Drift."  
  
"Night, Roddy."  
  
He doesn't allow himself to relax into recharge until he's sure that Rodimus is asleep. Only then does he let recharge take him as well.  
  


***

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated.


End file.
